The First Meeting
by Venus Smurf
Summary: Sesshomaru's thoughts during and after his first meeting with Rin...


A.N.: Okay, I wrote this in response to a challenge given for Sesshomaru/Rin fans. Now, I am one of those fans, but I haven't seen a whole lot of the show. If I've screwed up or misrepresented one or more of the characters, I sincerely apologize. I did, however, write this in under an hour, so I don't think I had _time_ to mess up!  
  
Let me know what you think of my characterizations. If enough people like this, I'll write an actual story. If not...well, I tried, anyway!  
  
Usual disclaimers...blah, blah, blah.  
  
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"First Meeting"  
  
He blamed the thrice-damned sword.  
  
What else could have been responsible for his temporary lapse of insanity? The sword had manipulated him, had twisted every instinct he had ever possessed. It had forced him to accept a path he would have shunned at any other time.  
  
He should have killed her while he'd had the chance. She had been defenseless, vulnerable. She could never have survived even the lightest of blows, and he still could not explain why he had not simply ended her miserable existence. She would, he felt, have been grateful to be released from the pitiful life she led.  
  
It would have been an act of mercy. She certainly had nothing to live for. Her own people had reviled her, beaten her. She'd been an outcast, hated and alone. Death, at least, would have brought a measure of peace to her soul.  
  
Instead, he had saved her life. He'd protected that soul from the ravages of the underworld, resurrected her. He'd lifted her from the clutch of death, and in doing so had flaunted every ounce of sense he'd ever claimed to have.  
  
Were the gods laughing at him? Probably. They seemed to find no little pleasure in forcing life's ironies down his throat. The child, he reflected, was one of those ironies. How else could a human child be content in his presence? He was a demon, one known for his intense disgust with the mortal races. He was a killer of her kind, and he took great pleasure in the pain he'd inflicted on her people throughout the years.  
  
Sesshomaru sighed profoundly, listening to the crunch of the girl's bare feet against the forest floor. She was still following him, trailing behind at what she thought was a safe distance. She had not taken her eyes from his tall form, and he suppressed the sudden urge to turn and glare at her.  
  
He did not turn, however, knowing full well that he did not want to meet those brown eyes of hers. She was too trusting, he reflected. She was not safe with him, though he knew she would never question her safety in his presence.  
  
He sighed, and the girl's pale face drifted once more through his mind. Why? he wondered. Why this child? I kill her kind. Why does she trust me so? Doesn't she realize that I'm dangerous?  
  
He grunted, unconsciously slowing his own pace as the girl began to fall behind. She was only a human, he thought almost angrily. She was mortal, and she was weak. Why else would she have fallen so quickly when those wolves attacked her village? She had not even attempted to fight back.  
  
She was running to you, a little voice whispered into the back of his mind. She was trying to find you, to find safety in _you._ She knew you would protect her as she'd attempted to protect you.  
  
He sighed again, remembering the expression in her eyes the day she'd first found him. She'd been fleeing herself, likely running from some cruelty visited upon her by her own kind, and she'd stumbled into the thicket where he'd lain, injured and more than half-dead.  
  
He'd sensed her presence, of course, and, though his instincts told him to kill her immediately, he had not been in any position to hunt even one as weak as she. He'd tried to draw on his strength as a demon, but even that had betrayed him. He'd managed only to sit up and snarl at her, and the movement had cost him dearly. Knowing that he could not attack her outright, he'd immediately attempted to frighten the intruder away.  
  
His demon blood had surged through him, turning his eyes red and sharpening his fangs. She had gasped and swallowed, but, to his intense surprise, she'd hesitated only a moment before stepping forward.  
  
Why had she not fled? She knew what he was-he'd seen the realizations flashing through her deep eyes. She knew, but she was not afraid. Nervous, perhaps, but not afraid.  
  
He quickly realized that she would not run as she ought. Admitting defeat, he'd fallen back to the ground, weakened by his injuries and unable to support his own weight. She'd watched him collapse, and the faintly worried expression never left her delicate features.  
  
She'd stared at him for several long moments, but he had said nothing as he closed his own eyes. He'd hoped, irrationally, that she would take the hint and depart. He could hear her moving through the trees around them, and she did, eventually, retreat.  
  
He did not open his eyes as she walked away, knowing she believed him to be asleep. He wondered, briefly, if she would report his existence to the men of her village. In his condition, he was not eager to battle even humans, and he wished, irrationally, that he'd killed her.  
  
When she returned a few minutes later, he'd automatically tensed, wondering if she'd brought others of her kind. Even in this state, though, he'd been perfectly capable of realizing that she had come alone. Only one set of footsteps crunched across the forest floor, and he could not scent any other humans nearby. She had come alone.  
  
She'd hesitated on the edge of the clearing, watching anxiously for any sign of life. He had not moved, wanting to see her reaction himself. Would she believe he had died, and would she be foolish enough to come closer?  
  
She had stepped forward, but she did not come close enough for him to kill her. Her reluctance to approach had saved her life, though he might still have killed her had she not left a small, wooden container a few feet from his still form.  
  
He could smell the water contained therein, though he made no movement that would acknowledge her gift. He wanted nothing from a human, especially not from a girl as unkempt and silent as she.  
  
She'd returned that night, bearing human food on a leaf of some plant he could not name. She'd laid the fish and wild mushrooms beside the water, watching him with those sad, brown eyes of hers.  
  
He'd pushed himself up, propping his lean form against a tree. He'd stared into nothing as she'd approached, and he had not so much as glanced in her direction as she placed the food on the ground nearby.  
  
She'd realized he would not react, and she had soon turned to leave. She was walking slowly, however, and he knew she would return. He had no desire to allow this human child to disturb his peace more than she already had.  
  
"Mind your own business, girl," he said harshly. "Your generosity is wasted. I don't eat human food."  
  
He had not turned towards her, but he could sense the sudden disappointment filling the air around her. She had paused, gasping slightly as she'd turned to face him. When he said nothing further, though, she'd turned and walked away.  
  
He'd soon fallen asleep, letting his body recover from the injuries done to him by his worthless brother. He'd spent the remainder of the night in peace, every moment bringing healing to his abused body.  
  
The next morning brought a much-needed infusion of energy, and he now felt well enough to move around a little more. He did not leave his tree, however, choosing simply to pull the white pelt he wore around himself as he continued to regain his strength.  
  
He found himself wondering, almost against his will, if the girl would return. He had been cold to her, and he supposed he had scared her away. Curiously, he felt no joy in the thought.  
  
He scented the blood long before the girl arrived once more. Her step, even in his damaged ears, was slow, limping. He wondered how she'd been injured.  
  
When she stepped into view, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her small face was even more pale than usual, the delicate skin marred by countless bruises. One eye was swollen shut, the deep brown color hidden behind an inflammation that could only have come from an intentional blow.  
  
She had been hurt, he knew. He could smell the dusky aroma of other humans around her, and he supposed she had been attacked by her own people. This did not, of course, surprise him greatly. He'd seen the dirty state of her body and clothing, and he could see the unhealthy shine in her eyes. She was small, even for a human, but the fragile fineness in her arms also bespoke malnourishment.  
  
Even he, hardened demon that he was, had felt her state was disgraceful. Amongst his own kind, an orphaned pup would have been adopted and reared by another. Humans, it seemed, were not so generous, and this girl had been left to fend for herself.  
  
She had come slowly, this time carrying only a few strands of sickly grain. She sidled close to him, having lost all hesitation in the face of her own people's cruelty. She no longer seemed to care that he might be dangerous.  
  
She'd come close to him, standing only a few inches away as she'd held her offering in the air before him. "No, thanks," he said coldly, though even he was surprised by the lack of true anger in his voice.  
  
She ran a few steps closer, still holding out the grain. Determination filled her small features, and she knelt before him, lifting the food into the air in an attempt to make him take what she thought he needed. She grunted faintly, seeming to become genuinely disappointed when he continued to refuse.  
  
He could see that she had no intention of leaving, though she had yet to say a word to him. "I said I don't need anything from you," he snapped, annoyed by her continued silence.  
  
He looked into the distance, and the scent of her blood teased his senses. His voice, as he finally gave into his curiosity, was far more hesitant than it had ever been. "Where did you get those bruises?" he asked softly.  
  
She said nothing, though he knew that her eyes had widened with something akin to shock. He wondered absently if she was mute. His head tilted to one side, and his voice became curiously gentle as he murmured, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."  
  
He glanced directly at her for the first time, noting each and every bruise still lingering on her face. She continued to stare at him, and the shock on her face only increased.  
  
He was becoming unnerved by her stare. Once again, he wondered at the lack of fear in her eyes. She seemed to be experiencing more awe than terror, though there was a wary sort of admiration in her glance.  
  
Then, so abruptly that he was caught off guard, the girl's face broke into a joyful smile. Her full lips twisted in a brilliant grin, revealing an almost perfect set of small, white teeth. Only one tooth was missing, likely knocked out during the conflict that had cost the vision in her right eye.  
  
His uneasiness only increased as she laughed with an equally stunned joy, and his irritation with her escalated. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded angrily. Then, when she merely continued to grin, he scowled. "I don't care," he ground out. "I'm merely curious."  
  
She continued to smile, and he was almost relieved when she finally left. She was, he noted, skipping slightly, and he was faintly impressed with her resilience. All trace of her sorrow had departed, and she seemed almost energetic.  
  
She had not returned that night, and he swiftly quelled the faint disappointment that he felt as the hours continued to pass and she did not appear. Night came and went, and the child did not return. He hoped, wordlessly, that she had not been further injured.  
  
The sun rose on his third day in that forest, and with it came his strength. He was not fully healed, but had no intention of lingering. The sooner he escaped from this human child and whatever influence she'd been having on him, the sooner he could go back to being as he had been.  
  
He would not even entertain the thought that he might not be able to do so.  
  
Jakken, Sesshomaru's high-pitched servant, had been waiting for him in the meadow just beyond the clearing, crouched across the two-headed demon they used for transportation. The worthless toad-demon was muttering to himself, agitatedly pulling the petals from a small meadow daisy.  
  
As his tall master silently approached, Jakken suddenly stood and shouted, "Lord Sesshomaru! Would you have actually risked my life to test your sword?! You ungrateful dog!"  
  
He seemed to be speaking more to the air than to his actual master, but Sesshomaru was still irritated. His thoughts had been filled with the girl's dark eyes, and he had not truly wished to be brought back into his old world.  
  
Angered by his servant's faithlessness at a time when his mind was still occupied elsewhere, Sesshomaru casually lobbed a fist-sized rock at Jakken's head. The pack animal lifted its heads as the toad was thrown from his perch, but Jakken merely spun to face his master, a look of injured outrage on his sickly green face.  
  
"Lord Sesshomaru!" the toad shouted again, "Before I continue in your service, were you actually testing your sword on me?!"  
  
The toad's voice was filled with righteous indignation, and Sesshomaru scowled. "I expected a relieved welcome from you, Jakken, not an interrogation," he retorted coldly.  
  
Instantly, Jakken's ugly features lifted in a forced grin. Sesshomaru's golden eyes had hardened dangerously, and even Jakken knew better than to pursue the inquiry. "Right!" the toad protested. "I'm glad you're well! I thought you might be dead..."  
  
Sesshomaru's scowl deepened as Jakken's voice trailed away, and he threw another rock at his servant's small head. Jakken immediately fell, clutching at his skull and moaning pitifully.  
  
Sesshomaru began to step forward, fully intending to punish his servant's insolence further. He hesitated before beginning, however, reflexively scenting the breeze that sifted through his silver hair.  
  
The air had lost its purity, had become decayed and poisoned. He lifted his head, gazing into the distance as he continued to test this new scent.  
  
Blood, he thought. Blood...and the smell of wolves. "I recognize this blood," he said aloud, and his golden eyes narrowed.  
  
His heart seemed frozen as he'd turned and gone in search of the human girl whose blood he'd scented. He wondered at this ice in his soul, wondered why he seemed so concerned for the small human child who'd been visiting him.  
  
He had not needed more than a few moments to locate her. She was dead, as he'd known she would be. Her small body was lying in the center of the path that would have taken her from her own village to his small forest clearing. Blood pooled around her, matting her black hair and filling the air with the sickly sweet smell of corruption. Her one good eye remained open, staring lifelessly into nothing.  
  
He was shaking inside, though his expression remained as blank as always. He stepped up to the child's body, as did Jakken. "What is that?" the smaller demon cried, bending close to the body.  
  
"Whew!" the toad exclaimed, voice filled with disgust as the scent of her decaying body filled his nostrils. "She's a goner, that's for sure." He took another step forward, examining the body with apathy. "She must have been attacked by wolves," he said. "Look at the teeth markings."  
  
He glanced over his shoulder, yellow eyes expressing faint curiosity as he turned to his master. "Do you recognize this worthless human, sire?" he asked.  
  
Sesshomaru said nothing in response as a memory of the girl's innocent laughter flitted through his mind, and his hand crept instinctively towards the hilt of his deeply-hated sword.  
  
The weapon seemed to pulse under his fingers, causing the nerves beneath his skin to vibrate. "Interesting," he murmured emotionlessly, ignoring Jakken's fearful cries as he pulled the battered and scarred weapon from its sheath.  
  
The moment his fingers touched the hilt, a new world seemed to open before his eyes. Shadows danced along the edge of his vision, cloying with his senses. The true world, on the other hand, seemed duller, muted. Even the smell of the girl's blood seemed less potent.  
  
He looked again to the girl's body, starting as he finally noticed the hazy shapes of small demons gathered around the child's form. He'd never seen demons such as these before, but he could guess at their nature. They should, he thought absently, have been invisible even to his eyes.  
  
The demons bent around the girl, staring almost greedily at her dead form. Sesshomaru watched silently as they darted around her, glee evident on their faces. "I can see them," he said, noting the weapons carried in each demon's hands. "They are from the underworld." Understanding dawned quickly in his eyes.  
  
He regarded the blade in his hand, face clear of the loathing he usually felt. "I will do another test," he decided abruptly. "I'll use the Tensaiga."  
  
He lifted the blade into the air, summoning his power as he sent the weapon into a sweeping arc. The energy from the blade lashed out, slicing through the underworld demons as easily as a knife through warm butter. The demons evaporated, returning to whatever place they'd come from.  
  
Jakken began to shout once more as Sesshomaru sheathed his weapon and knelt beside the girl's body, lifting her gently with his only remaining arm. She still did not move, and she felt heavy to the tall demon holding her.  
  
He watched her face intently, golden eyes widening as life returned to the girl and she slowly opened her dark eyes. She stared up at him, freezing as her eyes met his. She still did not speak.  
  
"She came back to life!" Jakken exclaimed incredulously. "Did you resurrect that girl with the power of the Tensaiga?"  
  
Sesshomaru ignored Jakken and released the girl. Their eyes remained locked together as she gently pushed away from him to stand on her own feet. She continued to look up at him, eyes wide.  
  
He stared at her, as well, golden eyes roving over her small face as he sought the injuries she'd carried before. He found none, however. She had been healed, and even her swollen eye had returned to its normal size. She was still covered in her own blood, but the injuries that had released that blood seemed to have disappeared entirely. She was whole once more.  
  
Sesshomaru gazed at her, finally standing and moving away. He had not yet considered what he would do with the child, and he began to walk slowly back towards his latest camp.  
  
Tensaiga, you compelled me to save a human life today, he thought at the sword. Now, if he could only decide what he needed to do with her...  
  
He moved down the path, knowing the girl had begun to follow. She did, tracing his steps with her own small feet.  
  
Hours later, he had still not decided what he should do with this child. She could not return to her village, and he could not bring himself to abandon her. What, then, was he to do?  
  
He had vowed that he would not lose control to this tiny slip of a girl, to this dark-eyed human child. She would not weaken him, would not break through his hard-earned defenses. He would not allow this girl to become a part of his life, though he did not know how he might avoid such a thing.  
  
Damn her, he again, gritting his teeth as the girl stumbled over a break in their path. She whimpered slightly, though the sound would not have been detectable to any human's ear.  
  
The distance between them had widened considerably. Sesshomaru found himself glancing over his shoulder, absently wondering if the girl had been injured. He could not taste the metallic flavor of her blood on the air, however, and she appeared to be free of any new bruises. Still, her russet eyes had become somewhat glassy, and her already pale face had whitened still more. She was, he realized, on the verge of collapsing.  
  
His perfect features twisted with annoyance, and he silently cursed himself for his failure to notice her condition. She meant nothing to him, of course, but he should not have been so unobservant. Such carelessness would only get him killed.  
  
The girl stumbled again, and Sesshomaru's scowl deepened. The girl was young, he reflected, and a mere human. He should not have expected her to keep this pace. Her small body was not accustomed to such strain.  
  
Almost involuntarily, Sesshomaru found himself pausing, turning aside to intercept the girl. Noticing his hesitation, the human, too, ceased to walk. She stared up at him as he approached, russet eyes wide and questioning. Her body swayed a little from her exhaustion.  
  
He bent, kneeling before her as he turned his hard, golden stare to her pale face. She gazed back at him, awe once again filling her large eyes. The trust in her dark gaze unnerved the tall demon crouching before her.  
  
For a moment, Sesshomaru considered the merits of carrying out his earlier intentions. What had he been thinking, to save this human child? She was weak, a nuisance. She could only be an inconvenience to him.  
  
Truly, he thought, I should kill her. She can only be a hindrance to me, and I have not the patience required to provide for her. She will have to be fed and clothed. Protected. Why did I let her live? I should end this.  
  
He lifted his hand subtly, intending to take her life as quickly and painlessly as possible. She would, he reflected, meet death instantly. She will not suffer, and I will given her a far easier death than any human deserves. I should have done this long ago.  
  
She seemed not to have noticed the raised limb, and she continued to stare at him, eyes both trusting and grave. There was still no fear in her face.  
  
He stared at her, disturbed by that lack of fear. She was only a human, and any other would have been shaking with unadulterated terror. Didn't she realize how dangerous he was? How deadly? Why wasn't she afraid?  
  
He sighed again, lowering his hand back to his side. Once again, the girl did not notice, though her full lips suddenly parted in a wide smile. She laughed, eyes brightening with clear pleasure.  
  
His own eyes narrowed, and he grunted with annoyance as his resolve to end her life abruptly evaporated. There, he thought. She's done it again. Why does the smallest hint of her smile stay my hand?  
  
Oblivious to his irritation, the girl's smile only widened. Sesshomaru scowled again, noting the continued weariness lingering on her pale features. He frowned, still fighting his instincts as he reached for her, lifting her with his good arm.  
  
She instantly relaxed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her small form almost protectively against his chest. She laughed softly, nestling against him with a child's innocent and contented sigh.  
  
His face remained expressionless as he resumed his journey, still holding the human child. She soon fell asleep, face burrowed against his neck. He could feel her gentle breath against his skin, and his frown lightened imperceptibly.  
  
Damn the sword, he thought again.


End file.
